Difficult Words: I'm Pregnant!
by AnnBlackwater
Summary: A short ficlet from my Arcanum story between Hawke and Carver. Hawke is pregnant, and she STILL hasn't told Carver. What's a girl to do?


A/N: Hello everyone! It's been a very long time since I've posted anything on , mostly because I've taken a hiatus to write an original novel, which is coming along. Anyway, due to a writing challenge from fellow writing friends, I was drawn momentarily back into the world of DA2 and I wrote a small ficlet, something I've actually never done before!

The challenge was:

Pick your favourite Thedas guy and gal, and write a kissing scene. No sex, and hands must stay where we can see 'em. Make us believe that your guy is the best kisser in all of Thedas!

So, I wrote one between Carver and Hawke, in line with my Arcanum story. Enjoy!

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**Difficult Words: "I'm Pregnant!"**

_Hales_

Carver's voice echoed from the corridor that led into the kitchen, calling my name but I only smiled, focusing upon the pastry dough underneath my hands. It was too damp, I thought, I hadn't done this in a very long time. The last time… well, it had been for Carver's birthday, before I had even found Alistair again.

And speaking of my brother, damn Alistair and his puppy dog eyes. "You've _neeeeeee-ver_ cooked for me before!" he had whined and now here I was, sprinkling more flour within the mix, kneading and rolling out the dough beneath my fingertips. I rolled my eyes, shaking my head with an indulgent smile, why did I love him so much again?

My stomach grumbled and I looked at the mix of apples and cherries cooling in the bowl, the smell of freshly grated nutmeg and cinnamon making my mouth water. I nibbled on my bottom lip, feeling guilty. If I kept snacking every time I was hungry, I was going to become one of those portly gossips in the marketplace. Would Carver hate it when I became swollen? I smacked my closed fist into the dough, pouting at it, I hadn't even told him I was pregnant yet.

I wanted the baby, I wanted nothing more than to start a family of our own, with laughter and crying, skinned knees and wet kisses. I touched my tummy, feeling warmth wash over every fibre of my being. My baby, _our _baby. I wondered if it was a boy or a girl, pictured Carver's dark hair, or his eyes.

Two arms slid around my waist, surprising me, a husky voice murmuring in my ear, "So… why are you in the kitchen, Your Highness? Don't Princesses usually have servants for this kind of stuff?"

Speak of the devil.

Stammering from guilt and nerves, I told him, "Alistair was complaining because I'd never cooked for him before."

He hummed against my neck, partly watching as I rolled the dough into a pie plate. I poked my fingers between the dough and the pie plate, making the edge wavy as I chewed on my lip some more. I should really tell him…

"All I've got to say is that he bloody well better share that pie," said Carver resentfully, "when was the last time you cooked for _me_?"

I laughed, spooning the pie filling into the buttery batter and kissed his cheek, "I've been cooking for you since we were children." I had made too much filling, I thought happily, I could snack as the pie was baking. I wasn't really _that_ hungry, I just didn't want to waste it!

"And the last time you cooked for me was some time in Kirkwall," he bit the top of my ear very gently, "and definitely not since we've been married. Consider me jealous."

I pressed my elbow against his chest and picked up the pie, placing it gently within the brick oven. When I closed it and began putting utensils away, I countered, "Get over it."

His hand slid down my back, fingers trailing over my spine before he smacked my behind and _squeezed_. I let off a very loud, stunned yelp, "Carver!" It had been so light I had barely felt it, as though _Carver_ would actually hit me but his hand had been _so warm_ even through my dress and my face flooded red.

Carver laughed, shrugging his shoulders smugly, proceeding to pick up the bowl of leftover apples and cherries, "Wouldn't have happened if you did your wifely duties and cooked for me."

I narrowed my eyes at him and grabbed the bowl before he could spoon a generous amount of _my snack_ into his mouth, "That's mine, you misogynistic pig."

He winked, unrepentant, "You know you love me."

I couldn't help the compulsive way in which the corner of my mouth lifted into a smile. Saying nothing, I nibbled upon the apples, relishing in the gingery spices and nutmeg upon my tongue. I hummed, it was perfect aside from the niggling guilt. I still hadn't told him… how difficult was it to say 'I'm pregnant'?

But what if Carver wasn't ready for –

"Hungry?" he asked, suddenly next to me, his arm snaking around my shoulder.

"A little," I admitted shyly.

"You've been feeling pretty peckish lately," he commented lightly. I groaned inwardly, he would work it out soon. Better to spit it out. He'd only get upset later with his whole 'why do you always do things without me?' routine.

I placed the half-empty bowl on the table, it thudded woodenly, echoing the nerves inside of me. I suddenly felt nauseous, but it wasn't from morning sickness, just nerves. I squared my shoulders, facing him and couldn't find the words. I reached for his lyrium, and thought the words out loud instead.

_I'm pregnant._

He cast me a loving look, his thumb swiping along the corner of my mouth before licking the frosting off his digit.

_I know._

"What?" I blurted.

"You know, Hales, I might be stupid but I'm not yet thick," said Carver, whilst counting on his fingers, "One, it's been a good long while since I've seen any red stain the bed or any material in our bedroom. Two, you've spent most mornings running out of bed into the bathroom. I can't really hear you retch but I can imagine what you're doing in there, especially if it happens almost every morning."

"I didn't this morning," I said with a sullen moue.

"Maybe you're past that morning sickness phase… it isn't supposed to last long," he said, before continuing, "but don't interrupt. Three, you've been…" he gestured, "eating _a lot_ and really weirdly. Not that I'm saying you're gaining weight or anything," he said with two hands up in surrender, "but I mean, you wanted pickles and whipped cream two days ago. If that doesn't scream pregnant, I don't really know what does, love."

I rubbed the back of my neck awkwardly. Thinking back, he was right. Who ate pickles with whipped cream with such delight? I cursed under my breath.

His voice trembled with threatened laughter, "Then there's the constant feeling of guilt you've got going on. I can _feel_ it, you know that. If I hadn't known you were pregnant, I would have started wondering if you've been off seeing Mikhail or someone else."

I smacked his shoulder as hard as I could, "I have not!"

Carver grabbed my hand before I could hit him again and kissed my fingers, "I know, I'm joking."

He cradled me, a hand pressing against my lower back so our bodies touched, "Did you really think I wouldn't know?" He traced my jaw and caressed my cheeks, "Did you think I wouldn't feel the life growing inside you when we made love? Couldn't feel the way your mana and sorcery changes, the way it wraps around your womb to protect _our_ child?" he whispered, his voice like soft velvet sliding across my skin.

"Even your tummy is a little less flat than before, it's so slight but I can tell," he told me and I groaned, pulling away from his embrace. That was _not_ what I wanted to hear.

He grabbed me by the arms, "Oh no you don't."

"I don't want to be fat," I told him.

His only response was to laugh at me before he sobered, "Well, at least you didn't say 'I don't want to be pregnant'. Elissa was so right about you, or maybe it is just a thing females say when they're pregnant."

"Maker! Does she know?" I screeched.

"Who doesn't?" he countered carelessly, "Pickles and whipped cream?"

"Should have known better," I said.

"Why does it matter? You're pregnant. You're allowed to have strange cravings, you're supposed to gain weight! Are you really dumb enough to think that because you'll look slightly different, I won't love you?"

I said nothing but the guilt that bloomed within me was more than enough of an answer. He rolled his eyes at me.

"I've been talking to Anders and Elissa a lot about your pregnancy, everything is going to be fine, more than fine. You'll have cravings then you'll gain some weight. You might get back aches later on and –"

I interrupted, "You talked to them about what to expect?" I laughed, "Are you serious? What did you say to them?" I tried to restrain myself but picturing Carver, talking about pregnancy, was just so beyond me that bubbles of laughter kept escaping.

He couldn't help the smile and kissed my nose, "I told them that you were pregnant but that you wouldn't tell me, which really pissed me off by the way. I was worried because you kept running for the bathroom every morning."

I wound my arms around his neck, staring up into his sapphire eyes and smiled, "Well, I'm pregnant," I told him again.

"I know, I was so excited when I first found out. Even Fenis couldn't stop laughing at me, called me a child. I love you, so much," he said, squeezing me tightly, before sniping, "Took you long enough to tell me though."

I laid my mouth lightly against his, "I'm sorry. Forgive me?"

"Pfft. Do you remember who I am?" he said, mock offended, "You think that tiny, measly excuse of a kiss is going to make me forgive you, I don't think so."

"Oh?" I asked, "So I need to give you another kiss to get back into your good books?"

I brushed my lips against his again, almost not touching, before backing away, "There. All forgiven now, I hope."

He growled, though his eyes sparkled only with play, "Not even close."

It began so gently, just a soft press of his mouth against my own, then again, another yielding closed-mouth kiss before he parted my mouth, threaded his fingers deep into my hair. As I melted against him, arms moving of their own accord, his head turned to that perfect angle and our mouths locked together, tender, sweet, his tongue traced so lightly along the inner edges of my lips. My knees buckled, his arms caught me tight around my waist, pulling me closer and closer still. I teased him with my tongue, luring him deeper, inviting him to explore my taste. I heard his deep groan, felt it vibrate against my chest and suckled upon his tongue, just for a moment, before nibbling upon his bottom lip.

I clutched at him, hands tugging gently against his hair, a clear demand for more and he shuddered, his kiss turning bruising, hard. My body answered his, quivering, hips searching for him before his arms raised me to the kitchen table, standing between my legs, lips not breaking from mine for even a moment. Our teeth clinked, and I felt his amusement within me, before desire overwhelmed. Need, hunger, love flooded, wave after wave, until his hand rested upon my tummy, hand so warm. Possession. I moaned softly but he swallowed it whole.

"Oh for the Maker's sake, people _eat_ on that table, you know!"

Alistair.

Carver broke off gently, not without another soft, loving kiss. He ignored Alistair for a moment to tell me, "Now, you're forgiven."

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A/N: I hope you enjoyed! Read and review! I'll be around occasionally but will mostly focus on my original work. I'll post something up when I finish it!

Love, Ann


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